


Dreams Of You

by nocturnejellyfish



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, they are so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23902588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnejellyfish/pseuds/nocturnejellyfish
Summary: Written for YenWeek day 2 on tumblr prompt: favorite relationshipYennefer and Jaskier spend an afternoon magically exploring Yennefer's favorite memories. Jaskier finally gets an opportunity to see Yennefer as she once was before she became a mage.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 10
Kudos: 87





	Dreams Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended song: [Beautiful Dream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMLm5TmM6QQ)

Yennefer’s eyes scan over the same sentence three times without reading it before she decides to take a break. With a yawn she gently rests the tome of advanced magical theory on the side table. She shifts on the love seat so she’s facing Jaskier. The scratching of his quill against his notebook stills and he looks up at Yennefer with a soft, curious expression. 

“I want to try something,” Yennefer says. An idea had been percolating for the last half hour, a half forgotten memory dredged up by the terribly boring magical theory. 

“Ok.” Jaskier closes his notebook with a snap and sets it aside. He turns to face Yennefer, their knees brushing together. “Let’s do it.” 

“Don’t you want to know what it is before you agree?” She asks, eyebrows raised. Jaskier shrugs his shoulders, expression amused. 

  
“I hope you’re planning on explaining. But...I trust you.” 

She sees no hesitance or fear in his eyes. Even after all this time the way that Jaskier trusts her implicitly is enough for her heart to skip a beat. People don’t trust her, for good reason. But then again, Jaskier likes to take a stick to what people thought he ought to do and beat it until it was a bloody pulp. One of his better qualities in her opinion. 

“I want to try something called thought transference. It won’t work exactly the same as if you were a mage since you don’t have a lick of magical potential in you.” 

“But I can lick other things,” Jaskier waggles his eyebrows. 

“Concentrate.” She swats his arm. 

“Yes ma’am. Thought transference - are you going to read my mind?” 

“Not this time. I’m going to share memories with you.” 

“Oh. Oh!” Jaskier’s eyes brighten. “Any memories?” 

“I’m not going to show you memories of us fucking.” She says with a roll of his eyes. 

“That’s not quite what I was thinking of although….” He laughs, then runs a hand through his hair nervously. “I want to see you. What you were like before.” His eyes search hers. She feels strangely vulnerable, even though this whole thing was her idea. She tamps down on the impulse to close herself off. To leave. 

“If that’s okay with you?” He asks, pressing his hand against her cheek. 

“Okay.” She finds herself saying and is awarded with an excited smile. 

“Close your eyes,” she instructs while pressing his hand between hers. She doesn’t like thinking about those younger days. Those memories were often wretched with despair and the hurt of being manipulated and betrayed. Used. 

She finds a slice of happiness for him though. It was the evening after she had finally managed to make a rock hover in mid-air. That night when she looked into the mirror she didn’t see someone useless. Crippled. No. That night she looked into the mirror and someone with potential to be more. A girl who would someday be powerful. 

She immediately breaks the connection off when she hears a choked gasp from Jaskier. He’s roughly wiping away tears that have gathered in his eyes. Yennefer feels abruptly blank at the sight. This was a mistake. 

“Fuck. Yenna.” He says, voice thick with emotion. He pulls her close, in a tight hug. She holds herself stiffly in his embrace. 

“My old visage is that hideous?” She tries for levity but it cuts her mouth. 

“What?” He asks, startled. “Yenna in no world would I ever describe you as hideous, then or now. If anything, you were a very pretty lass. I’m upset because fuck. I could feel how much you hated yourself and I want to kill the bastards that ever made you feel that way.” 

“Worry not, dear idiot, most of them are long dead. Also pretty lass?” She raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think anyone ever called me a pretty lass.” 

“Their loss then.” He presses a kiss to her cheek. “Teenage me would’ve been infatuated with her.” 

“You weren’t even born when I was a “pretty lass”.” 

“I’m sorry for my ill-timed birth dear, I’ll try to make it up to you now.” He presses more kisses everywhere until she’s smiling at his ridiculousness. She pulls him forward for a real kiss. 

“You have a lot of years to make up for.” She murmurs against his lips. 

“And I’ll savor each one, love.” He pulls away, looking at her thoughtfully. 

“You know they say the girls of Aretuza come out changed women. Ethereal. Inhuman. But you haven’t changed as much as I thought you did.” 

“I don’t have ovaries or a curved spine.” She points out. 

“This is true. But the important parts of you survived. Your eyes, your strength, how much you fucking scare the shit out of me, love.” 

“You should be scared of me, little bastard.” She said. She took his hand in hers. “Ready to see more?” 

“Yes, dear.” 

She spends the rest of the afternoon showing him glimpses of memories. The taste of her favorite cake - fluffy with raspberry jam and custard layers. 

“I don’t even like cake. Did you just use your magic to make me like cake?” He asks mock scandalized. 

“I can’t be the only one with good taste around here anymore.” 

“Hey! I have great taste, I’ll have you know.” 

She presses a hand against his mouth. “Shut up so I can show the next thing.” He does shut up. 

Images and sensations float from her mind to his. The taste of salt from a brisk sea breeze. The shock of wet and cold from having a snowball thrown at her. The feeling of magic just beneath the skin, fizzling and eager to leap from her fingertips. Her elation at finally being able to see moon jelly in person. 

She watches carefully as he experiences each memory. His face is giddy with delight, not unlike a babe eating their first sweet. It was an infectious feeling - sharing joy rather than causing harm for once. Is this how Jaskier felt when he sang his music? 

She pressed into his mind the memory she had been saving. 

It was a warm spring day in Oxenfurt, a warm breeze ruffled her hair. They were sitting on a grassy hill, in the shade of an old oak tree, enjoying the picnic she’d bought for them. She was sprawled across the picnic blanket, inelegantly drinking wine from the bottle. Jaskier’s confident facade had slipped and he was rubbing his hands nervously down his trousers. 

“I...uh...wrote something for you. I can play it if you’d like.” He said. She nodded in agreement and he settled the lute in his lap but he didn’t play. 

“It’s still a bit rough.” He stalled. 

“Sometime before I grow old, bard.” 

He visibly swallowed and started to sing. His voice had a soft, a vulnerable quality she’d never heard from him before. His emotions spilled out of his mouth, dripped with every twitch of his fingers on lute strings. His longing, his heartache, his love for her bare and given freely. 

She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye. She pressed her hand against the one strumming the lute. He paused and she moved the lute out of his grasp. Climbed onto his lap and kissed him until they were both breathless. Hoped that he could feel her emotions as keenly as she felt his. 

They blink their eyes open simultaneously as the memory slipped from their minds. The flat was silent save for the sounds of their breath. Yennefer’s heart beating too fast in her throat. 

Jaskier presses into her, lips searching for hers. They stay like that kissing deeply. Slowly. His hands buried in her hair and hers wrapped around his neck. They kiss not as a means to an end but to reaffirm what is already there. He kisses her like he loved and she kisses back just as sweetly. 

He pulls away and rests his forehead against hers. Panting until he can catch his breath once more. 

“Is that when you first knew?” 

“That I love you? Something like that.” 

“I love you too.” 

“I know, dear idiot.” 

He moves away only far enough to reach for his notebook. His other hand settles against Yennefer’s palm. 

“It took me weeks to write a song that I actually felt I could sing to you. For a whole two months my notebook was nothing but songs about you. I had a terrible one that was just about your eyes.” 

“I’d like to hear that,” She sits back against the couch, throwing his free arm around her shoulder. He snuggles closer, flipping through his notebook until he reaches a blank page. 

“Gods, you really really don’t,” he groans. He snuggles against her side, quill furiously scratching against the page. 

“What are you writing about?” She squints at the writing but it’s cramped and too messy to read. No doubt a bad habit he had picked up from traveling on the road. She feels a smidge of pity for his students at Oxenfurt. 

“A song inspired by my muse.” 

“Your muse wants a song about her eyes.” 

“Your wish is my command, oh demanding muse.” 

She rolled her eyes at him but rested her head against his shoulder. Content to listen to the scratch of the quill and Jaskier humming to himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on Tumblr at [queerfantasycharacter](https://queerfantasycharacter.tumblr.com/)


End file.
